


you are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you

by XioNin



Series: Sesong Five: Extras [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Boyfriends in love, Even's Birthday, M/M, a little melancholy, but ultimately it's all about love, some birthday blues, standalone fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XioNin/pseuds/XioNin
Summary: Just a little moment between the boys on Even's birthday.





	you are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing is you

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this gorgeous piece of art by Ayesha (Art Vandeley) some time ago, and asked if I could use it to inspire a bit of fic. Ayesha graciously agreed, but it took some time for me to get around to writing something. It's quick and dirty (the fic, not the beautiful art, lol) but I couldn't let this day pass without writing something to celebrate my beloved Even.
> 
> Hope you are all well.  
> ~X

Today is the best day, Isak’s favourite day, the twelfth of February. When he’d first told Even this, his boyfriend had laughed – eyes crinkling – and accused him of being sappy.

“Are you complaining?”

“No,” Even had said, chuckling into the tender skin of Isak’s neck. “I’d never complain about something like that.”

“Better not.” Isak’s harsh words had been softened by the syrup dripping from them. He couldn’t help it. He’s so in love it’s ridiculous, and today he gets to celebrate the one person who looked at him and said _I choose you_.

They’re home, their home, alone as they often are. Despite invitations to grab some celebratory pizza with the gang, despite Even’s mom complaining that Even is “still her baby boy and it is her right to spoil him with cake and kisses on his big day,” they’d somehow managed to keep this chilly Monday evening just for them.

Even seemed to know how much it meant to Isak to be alone with him tonight. Even always seems to know what Isak wants and needs before Isak does. It used to infuriate him. Then it confused the hell out of him. Now, though, he gets it. It’s them, just them. It’s how they are with each other.

Freezing rain pings the windows in their tiny flat. It’s miserable outside, but warm and cozy in their place. Isak had wanted it to feel special, so he had bought candles – unscented, thank you – to spread around various flat surfaces. Only a few, enough to light the room without needing the lamps. The effect casts a warm, soft glow over everything, including his boyfriend.

Even’s long form is stretched across the mattress, arms folded beneath his head, legs crossed at the ankles while Isak sits beside him. Even seems relaxed, and the warmth of the room has nothing on what Isak feels inside knowing this. That he can give Even this, do this for him.

“So,” he says, aware that he’s staring at the patch of skin exposed by Even’s bunched-up t-shirt and low-slung jeans. “Twenty-one.”

Even nods. “Not a big deal.”

“If we were American, we’d be out getting you your first legal beer.”

“If we were American, I would have had a fake ID five years ago.”

Isak grins. “True.”

They lock their smiling eyes and Isak inhales deeply, shaking his head a little.

“What?” Even’s question has his eyes twinkling now. He knows what. He always knows.

“Nothing,” Isak says, teasing.

Even tilts his chin, beckoning Isak closer. The movement is almost imperceptible, but Isak obeys as if Even had voiced a command. He stretches out beside Even, resting his head on his boyfriend’s bicep when it is offered.

One long-fingered hand curls into his hair as he settles next to Even’s body. It’s blissful and he sighs.

“Good?”

Isak nods his response, nosing his way into the curve of Even’s neck. Their breathing syncs and Isak thinks it can’t get much better than this.

“Thank you,” Even whispers, turning further into Isak and tangling their legs together.

“For what?”

“For this.”

Isak tilts his head back to meet Even’s eyes. “For cuddling on the bed with you? Since when do you need thank me for that?” He settles back into his spot at Even’s neck. “This is more for me than for you anyway. I suck at planning birthday shit.”

“No, you don’t. This is perfect.”

“Sure you wouldn’t have rather gone out for pizza?”

“I’m sure.”

“Or done the cake thing with your parents?”

Even kisses the top of Isak’s head. “Very sure. This is all I wanted.”

A thought occurs to Isak. “Do you…? Is your birthday hard for you?”

“Hard?”

“For some people, birthdays are sad. You know? I just wonder… I mean last year, you didn’t want to do much either.”

Even’s sigh is more contemplative than mournful, so Isak’s alarm bells don’t ring.

“I’d be lying if I said they weren’t before. For a long time, I hated them.”

“Why?”

Even shivers. It’s sudden and over before Isak has time to register it. “It’s hard to explain, baby.”

Isak doesn’t think he’ll _ever_ tire of hearing that particular term of endearment. He pulls Even closer and is rewarded with Even tightening his embrace.

“Birthdays were a reminder of another lost year, I guess. Or…” He swallows, thinking. “Or maybe of another year passing unremarkably.”

Isak tilts his head up again. “Even. You’re twenty-one.”

Even shrugs, as much as he can, and nods, absentminded. “I know, but… Well… Nevermind.”

Isak reluctantly extracts himself from Even’s arms to prop himself up on one elbow.

Even turns to his side to face him but keeps his eyes downcast as if he’s ashamed.

“Talk to me.”

“Can’t we just chalk it up to birthday blues and be done with it?”

Isak arches his brow. “Is that what it is?” He cups Even’s jaw with his hand, guiding it until Even meets his eyes.

“Every year, I felt like I’d failed somehow,” Even says, barely above a whisper. “I’ve always had ambitious dreams, but something always held me back. Fear, lack of self-confidence, whatever.”

Isak nods. “So, what changed?”

“Huh?”

“You said you always hated your birthday _before_ , so what changed? And don’t say me,” he quickly adds, half-teasing.

Even frowns. “But it is you.”

Isak snorts. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Turn this into some bullshit romantic declaration. I’m asking you seriously.”

Even sits up, practically glaring down at Isak.

Isak frowns and slowly rises to a seated position. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Yeah you did,” Even cuts him off. He’s angry and Isak doesn’t really get why, though he kinda does.

Because he knows this about Even too, how much weight Even places on Isak’s presence in his life. How much Even attributes his happiness and overall well-being to Isak. It’s dangerous. He may only be eighteen, but Isak understands that much. It’s dangerous to place the fate of your joy in someone else, and it’s a lot of pressure too.

Not that Isak would let that pressure keep him away, no chance in hell.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Isak raises his eyebrows in response.

“You think I put too much stock in us, in you, when it comes to me.”

Isak looks down as Even takes his hand. “You have a family that loves you.”

“It’s different,” Even says. “Your family has to support you.”

Isak’s head snaps up. “Do they really?”

Even looks up and winces, realizing his mistake. “Well, usually.” He squeezes Isak’s hand.

“Yeah, usually.”

“It’s almost a given, right? Moms are supposed to think you’re the best, the brightest, the most. Right?”

Isak concedes. For all her faults and issues, Marianne has always told him he was her shining star.

“It’s different when a total stranger comes into your life and sees you, looks beyond all the walls and shadowboxes you’ve built up, and really sees you. Your best, your worst, and still…” Even’s voice quiets. “Still…”

“Loves you,” Isak provides, watching their joined fingers. He feels rather than sees Even nod before he looks up and meets his eyes.

“Yeah,” Even croaks.

The moment stretches between them, as moments often do, in silent recognition that they’re together in this.

“I want to kiss you.”

“So, kiss me,” Isak challenges.

They move in unison, sitting lotus style, mirror images. Even curls his fingers into Isak’s and brings their joined hands underneath Isak’s jaw. He leans in close, breathing against his lips.

Even after all this time, Isak’s breath hitches. His own fingers tremble, and he can feel the shiver in Even’s touch. After all this time, nothing has changed. He thinks maybe it never will.

The first kiss is just a brush of lips. Even’s are a little chapped as usual, thanks to his near-constant chewing on them. He leans back, brushing Isak’s nose with his, before tilting his head and moving in for the kill. Even’s tongue sweeps across Isak’s lower lip.

Isak’s hand tightens on Even’s. A small moan escapes the back of his throat as he opens to him. Welcomes him inside. The wet, the heat, the emotion behind it all, Isak craves. Just craves. By the time Even pulls away, Isak is breathless.

“Jesus,” is all he can say as he struggles to open his eyes. When he does, Even’s are smiling again, warm and soft.

Isak grins. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” comes Even’s quiet reply. “And thank you for this. It really is perfect.”

“I haven’t given you your present yet.”

“Is it you wrapped in a bow?”

Isak barks out a laugh. “You wish.”

“I do,” Even replies, his eyebrows dancing.

Heat creeps up Isak’s neck. “You can have that any day of the week.”

Even’s grin is lethal. “I know.”

Isak has to roll his eyes, otherwise he’ll pounce and the day will end there. He reaches under his pillow and pulls out a small package.

Even holds out his hand, expectant.

“It’s not much,” Isak says, stalling for time.

“I love it.”

“You don’t know what it is.” Isak shrugs one shoulder. “Anyway, it’s really lame.”

Even pries the paper-wrapped rectangle from Isak’s grip. “I love everything you give me.”

Isak grins. “Even that nasty cold a few weeks ago?”

Even nods. “That too. Three days in bed with Nurse Valtersen to look after me? I’d do it all again.”

Isak’s laugh dissolves into nerves as Even rips into the gift.

It’s nothing special. Isak had been in a shop, looking for ideas, when he stumbled across a display of leather-bound notebooks. He remembered that Even had recently complained about running out of space in his ever-present green one.

Even’s eyes widen and his mouth opens on a soft smile as he turns the book over in his hands, his fingers caressing the weathered green cover.

“Thanks, baby, I needed…” His words drift away when he sees the etching on the bottom front corner.

Isak gnaws at his own bottom lip as he watches Even read the inscription.

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in_

_my heart)i am never without it(anywhere_

_i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done_

_by only me is your doing,my darling)_

 

“Isak,” Even breathes as if he’s just sprinted across a continent. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The inscription (and the title) is from [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], a poem by e.e. cummings.


End file.
